


Sub Domina

by Domimagetrix



Series: Sexyske [1]
Category: Runescape
Genre: Crack Relationships, Crack...Just Crack, Other, Some Kind of I Don't Know What This Is, Sorta Smutty But Not Really IDK, VERY Suggestive Themes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-17
Updated: 2017-09-17
Packaged: 2018-12-31 01:13:39
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,985
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12121332
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Domimagetrix/pseuds/Domimagetrix
Summary: Sliske is a Slayer Master, and the World Guardian visits him for a task. Hilariously awful things happen.I'm so sorry. Especially the thing with the boot. And the chocolate. Nomad, please just drop by and eat my soul already.*Hangs head in shame but kinda ruins it with a giggle.*





	Sub Domina

The air always seemed thicker and more substantial in subterranean enclosures, and that held just as true in Sliske’s lair as it had in any dungeon filled with monsters. The World Guardian inhaled slowly, deeply, entering the stone reception room beyond the tunnel.

Firelight made the shadows within the small, circular room waver rhythmically, and played along the face and form of the Mahjarrat seated in the center of it. Sliske had foregone his usual robes in favor of something casual, a wraparound drape of black silk with dainty amber masks trailing up the edges, the hood still an artificial widow’s peak but black and amber-edged rather than his usual gray-violet and soft crimson. He reclined on a deep burgundy couch, one leg crossed casually over the other and revealing a great deal of form-fitting boot that reached above the knee. The visible sliver didn’t end there, either, permitting a glimpse of the rest of his thigh nearly to his hip.

A long-stemmed cigarette holder, matching the robe in black edge and mottled gold mouthpiece, wavered slightly over a standing ashtray as Sliske whirled some warm brown liquid in a tumbler in his other hand. Firelight caught and slid along the rounded glass and diffused in the liquor.

The strangest of all Gielinor’s Slayer Masters grinned at his visitor. “Ah, dove, you’re learning! Coming to receive your new task in the  _ flesh,” _ he paused, tapping the cigarette into the ashtray and resting it on a holder, “rather than using that crude and impersonal gem of yours. Come! Come here, my dear.”

As they approached, the World Guardian’s eyes fastened to Sliske’s gloved hand as it went to his mouth, teeth snagging the end of a finger as he drew his hand away, the glove sliding off in one smooth motion and hanging briefly from the Mahjarrat’s mouth before the now glove-free fingers pinched it and tossed it aside. He switched tumbler hands and did the same with the other glove, a glimpse of cruelly sharp canine visible and pressing against his lower lip as the World Guardian sank to one knee in respect.

Sliske’s eyes were half-lidded as the other glove came off, and he brushed the kneeling Guardian’s arm and shoulder with the side of his boot. The second glove joined the first in a casual toss to the floor, and he brought the glass to his stripe-bracketed mouth and licked the rim before taking a sip of syrupy brown liquor. The boot tapped a featherlight reminder of its presence to the side of their face while he spoke again. “You’re not just here to pick up a task, are you, dove? I rather missed having company while you were away.”

Their voice trembled as they spoke. “Of course, Slayer Master.” Taking a slight risk given the nearly lethal sharpness of the bootheel, they tilted their head and nuzzled the soft leather while looking up at Sliske.

Amber-over-obsidian eyes met theirs as he shook his head slightly. “Oh, darling, let’s not clutter up titles with the unnecessary, hmmm?” He watched the World Guardian brush their face against his boot and his expression became thoughtful. “I do believe “Master” is sufficient. Ah, and so much more  _ pleasurable  _ a word without the rest.”

The glass returned to his mouth, tongue exploring the rim more slowly as he watched the World Guardian’s lips move perilously close to the leather. “In fact, many things should be perfectly clear without being spoken, don’t you think?”

Their eyes met and the little slayer at Sliske’s feet turned, cupping the underside of the boot with a hand and running a careful tongue along the top. They looked up again, searching for approval in the Master’s gaze.

Sliske’s body responded, a liquid move that danced from chest to hips as his eyes closed briefly. His exhale was a soft sigh, and he stared down at the World Guardian again with irises both dimmer in lust and brighter in need. “Once more, my dear. And do invest yourself; a thing only half-done might as well be done not at all.”

Dropping their weapon to the unforgiving stone with an oddly bead-like clatter, the little slayer kept one hand beneath the boot while the other caressed the underside of Sliske’s calf. It stopped at a point just below his knee, and they pressed their tongue more firmly to the top of his boot, running a slow, wet trail upward until it was level with the hand beneath. They licked higher still until clawed fingers threaded through their hair, clenching in a half-grip that arrested their progress.

Sliske’s unctuous voice held a low, vibrating purr that resonated with his words. “Better, dove. So…,” his eyelids fluttered before he fixed his gaze on the World Guardian’s again, “...so eager.”

He reached just behind the back of the couch, withdrawing a peach so ripe that even careful fingers still created slight indentations in the fuzzy surface. His other hand toyed with their hair as he bit into the fruit, juice dribbling down his chin and dappling his chest. As he chewed, the dapples became rills trailing down nearly to the loose cover of robe. 

He swallowed, looking down at himself, then raised an eyebrow ridge at the World Guardian. “Sloppy, terribly sloppy of me. I certainly can’t reach that on my own, dove.” Sliske tossed the half-eaten peach wherever the gloves had gone earlier, and crooked a finger glistening with juice at the supplicant kneeling before him.

They rose, resting a knee on one side of Sliske’s hips and swinging a leg over until they straddled him, resting a careful hand on the Master’s shoulder. His fingers withdrew from their hair and gripped the slayer’s wrist, moving it until it was behind their back and wrapping a  pair of fingers around their other wrist, bringing them together on a one-handed hold. His legs uncrossed beneath them.

His grin became decidedly wicked as the World Guardian looked up into his eyes in confusion. “No, my dear. You came to me seeking a challenge, didn’t you?”

They nodded, feeling his hips shift slightly beneath their own.

Sliske’s tongue touched the edge of his mouth, teeth too white and his voice both sultry and predatory. “Then show your Master how you do it with no hands.”

They leaned forward, feeling the pinprick of warning claws at their wrists as their tongue met Sliske’s skin. Juice refused to be swept up in sufficient quantity, and the World Guardian pressed their lips to his chest and explored each rivulet from its pooling point near the edge of his robe up to his collarbone. With each “test” of Sliske’s grip on their wrists and the pressure of claw tips given in return, they moaned against gray skin made a warmer non-color in the firelight.

His humming was warm with satisfaction. “You delightfully filthy creature.” His hand moved to his mouth as though to lick the juice from his fingers but he stopped, looking down to the World Guardian again. He offered them to his eager attendant instead. “Mind the claws, love.”

They took the proffered fingers into their mouth, tongue pressing against the undersides as their lips slid over them once. As they neared the tips, they looked up into his eyes and slid down again, drawing moisture away as they took a second, slow mouth-stroke back to the claws and swallowed audibly. Lips released, and a painstakingly careful tongue stole the last traces of peach from the claws themselves.

Sliske’s mouth was open slightly, amber eyes pinned to the World Guardian’s lips with a fascination bordering on the desperate. “That is,” his breath hitched slightly, “adequate, my dear.” His previously juice-slathered fingers ticked gently to his own mouth. “One last bit to be done before I can properly reward you.”

Hands still bound behind them, they leaned in, suffering another warning set of pinpricks at the wrists and brushing Sliske’s chin with hesitant lips. The tongue was next, each slow lap rising higher and higher until it met the edge of his lower lip.

They paused, not daring to look up. Fingers curled into their hair again and forced them to look up.

Sliske wasn’t breathing so much as gasping now. “You miserable, detestable little  _ thing.”  _

The World Guardian pulled their hands from behind their back, and Sliske allowed it. They splayed fingers over his chest and rocked upward, capturing his mouth with theirs. 

He froze, shocked. The little human had been so enthusiastically submissive until now, but this was very much a  _ demand.  _

A demand of their mouth on his. Soft, pliant lips on his firm ones, an openmouthed kiss that violated the terms of their interaction thus far. A single assertive move that went no further, awaiting his response.

And what response? It certainly wasn’t the insult that had inspired the little slayer. He'd insulted them before. Given the availability of potential interests in the human world, it was unlikely they were without ample opportunity to sate themselves elsewhere.

Sliske wondered at it, at the possibility. Did they -  _ could  _ they - feel as he did, in the most secret and least-examined corner of his mind? The corner obscured by bookshelves laden with tomes devoted to deflections, games, and distractions of every kind intended to keep that corner from being explored?

Could those secreted feelings be  _ reciprocated? _

The mouth insisting against his drew his attention away from larger considerations and he met the kiss with his own, sinuous and wiry tongue probing against their softer one. The little human moaned into his mouth, and Sliske was helpless not to moan back into theirs.

Clawed fingers bunched in the World Guardian’s hair and drew them back. He met their gaze with his own, and spoke between ragged breaths. “Exquisite. Now, dove, for your reward.”

One hand remained wound in their hair as he reached again behind the couch, this time withdrawing a little brown sphere and holding it to their mouth. “Open.”

They did, the sweetly potent taste of dark chocolate surprising them. They bit into it, unleashing a spicy liquid that burned with a hint of alcohol. Before they had a chance to do more, Sliske dipped his head downward, brushing his lips over the vulnerable throat. His teeth grazed the skin as he spoke. “Swallow.”

They did, and Sliske’s tongue trailed up as the liqueur went down, savoring every minuscule compression and movement in the act. A second swallow earned them more than a mere graze of a few teeth, the Mahjarrat’s mouth actually opening to allow nearly all of them to press into the World Guardian’s neck.

It was for pleasure as well as a reminder:  _ I am the Master here.  _ They seemed to understand, stilling beneath the almost-bite and whimpering. 

He pulled away, grin smug and satisfied. “There, now, love. Wasn’t that worth it?”

They nodded so much as Sliske’s grip in their hair allowed.

He chuckled, sitting up and forcing them to sit back. Fingers unwound themselves from the World Guardian’s hair and caressed their cheek. “I thought it might be. Now, to the subject of your new task!” He gestured for them to stand as he turned, retrieving a scribbled-upon bit of parchment and a pair of unnecessary glasses, donning the latter and setting them to rest halfway up the bridge of his nose as he eyed the paper. “Hmmm. Soul devourers?” He looked up over the rims of his spectacles as he stood. “No, let’s dispense with this for now.”

The parchment drifted to the couch where Sliske had so recently lounged, the glasses followed, and he crooked a finger at his attentive student. As they neared him he pressed a hand to their shoulder, turning them until they faced away and pressed himself against them, bending slightly at the waist until his breath stirred a few errant strands of hair from their ear. “How would, say… 279 of anything you like sound, hmm?”

The World guardian leaned back into Sliske, brushing lips against the silk over his ear. “Thank you, Master.”

He straightened, head tilted back as he inhaled and tried to clear his mind enough to think beyond the clamor of his body and its desires. “This way, my dear. While the task is one of your choosing, it’s clear your equipment could do with accessorizing.” He moved from behind the little human, who followed him until he reached a sliding door in the wall that revealed recessed shelving within the stone. He turned to them, withdrawing something from the center shelf and eyeing the weapon the World Guardian had discarded earlier.

“Abyssal weapons are simply unsuitable for advanced killers. This," he held his find aloft, the multiple whip ends winding and unwinding around each other as they hovered over the floor, “is much more up-to-date.” He handed them the weapon, watching as they turned it this way and that, the weighted metal ends splaying and drawing back in. His tone was imbued with warm approval. “Much more lethal, I daresay.”

He gestured them to a clear portion of the room, pointing at an uninteresting slab of stone that made up a portion of the wall nearby. “Give it a test, love.”

They did, the ends clattering weakly against the rock face before slapping the floor and sliding back toward the World Guardian. 

Sliske shook his head, sighing. “No, not like that.” He stepped behind the World guardian again, reaching down and covering their whip hand with his own. “Like so.”

With his guidance, the whip cast gently forward and snapped away with a twist, the claw-ends closing and leaving a cruel starburst pattern of scratches on the stone before falling away. “Just a smooth throw forward, do you see? A moment’s pause, and then you pull  _ faster.” _

With the last word, Sliske’s hips jutted forward as his arm wound around the World Guardian, holding them in place. The less-than-gentle impact of his body against theirs left little to the imagination. He was happy to be there, and they knew it just as well as he knew they knew it.

“Do you see it now?” His claws trailed with a hint of pressure along their side. “More importantly, my dear… do you  _ feel  _ it now?” The hint became a definite promise, and the little human leaned back against Sliske, nodding.

The sharp prick of claws advanced from promise to threatening, pain urging the World Guardian to move away as they fought to remain still. Their voice fluttered with their breath. “I feel it, Master.”

Sliske’s hand released theirs and the claws withdrew. His student turned to face him, kneeling again on the stone before him. Claws threaded through their hair once more and tugged softly, urging them to look up at him. The tug became an affectionate stroke as he spoke. “I expect you to go and make use of the new toy given you, love. Now stand up and dust yourself off; let’s see a bit of that World Guardian pride before you go.” 

They stood, brushing at their knees despite the lack of dust in the room. Their posture lost its subservience, the old straightness of spine and backward shift of the shoulders reminding him of their first encounter years ago. The pride, the confidence they had in their inability to fail. Gone was the desperate and greedy human who’d squirmed and begged while straddling him, returned to the stubborn soldier of fortune he’d once marked for his own collection at the last Ritual Site.

Such two diametrically opposed creatures could exist in one form delighted him no end. He smiled. “Excellent, dove. When you return, I may just have a  _ special  _ challenge in the works.”

Sliske lifted a hand and snapped his fingers, a door toward the rear of the room opening and disgorging six familiar undead into the room. The Barrows Brothers filed in in front of the couch, settling themselves in deceptively casual poses - legs draped over armrests or each other, arms resting casually behind heads - and pinning the World Guardian with disconcertingly similar, empty gazes.

Their summoner remained facing his student and his smile, now less placid and regaining a bit of his provocateur’s edge, widened. “A challenge I suggest - no,  _ insist  _ \- you handle… in a multi-way experience. I’ve borrowed a jar of something my brother hoards for just such an occasion. Wouldn’t want any friction to wear away your delicate skin, dove.” He chucked the World Guardian under the chin with a finger. “It won’t be free, but I’ve no doubt at all we can come to some sort of mutually beneficial arrangement.”

His student’s face masked the strange mixture of alarm and intrigue well, but not well enough. Sliske waved at them with a delicate gesture. “Off with you for now. You know where I am when you  _ need me.”  _

They turned, exiting through the same door in which they’d entered, wondering at both themselves and whatever had passed between them in the chamber. Running a frustrated hand through their hair, they retrieved some vis wax from their bag and teleported away.

Sliske watched the World Guardian leave, wondering similarly about his student as well as himself.  _ Something  _ was there, but was it…? 

Surely not. Not of the same intensity. Not the same complicated roil of emotions that stirred in that little-examined corner of his mind. The one that had slowly expanded, forcing the shelves in front of it just a little wider, revealing just a little more of itself with each successive visit.

They couldn’t be that. Couldn’t say it, couldn’t quite reach the crescendo of word and deed that would doom what they were to each other to mediocrity.

It must always be this way, teetering on a blade’s edge, just a particle’s breadth away and no closer. To risk it would invite disaster.

Or bliss.

Sliske smiled. Weren’t risks his province, after all?


End file.
